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Cinderella’s Mechanic

… took a deep breath.

“Well, you see, it’s going to be a big job: yer front sprocket’s all blatted, and the wrank-splitter’s completely gone. Not to mention… well, it’s a pumpkin, innit? You’re not exactly giving me much to work with.”

I’ve been known to do the odd bit of gardening. When we moved in, our garden hadn’t been touched for years. I’m not exaggerating: there were tangles of thorns in there that would have sent even Prince Charming packing. It took most of a winter to dig out the borders (and we went through two saws and three garden forks in the process) but that was nothing–and I mean nothing–compared to my ongoing battle with the massed hordes of darkness.

Slugs.

The first year, I optimistically planted courgette seedlings in one of the borders, in groups between the shrubs. Gone in one night. Same happened with the broccoli and the brussels sprouts. I learned the error of my ways, and shifted to growing vegetables in pots, which I’ve done for three years now. Last year, we were inundated by cherry tomatoes and courgettes. Couldn’t move for them.

This year, the tomatoes have been surprisingly slow to get away, and the courgettes… well, the less said about them the better. The fig tree obviously approved of the weather, because it’s gone from giving us a combined harvest of 3 fruit over the last three years to somewhere near twenty this year. But the surprise of the summer has been the pumpkins, which have romped away (considering they’re in quite small containers).

Even if they’re a bit of an odd shape.

Not so much a glass coach as a Robin Reliant, is it? Still, it’ll look extra authentic with a candle in it come Halloween….

Chillis are a bit of a sore point (do not make the joke. Just don’t.) after last year. The Other Half said he fancied growing some, so I bought him one of the teeny tiny little plants & potted it up for him – and he then ignored it for the rest of the summer.

Meanwhile, thriving on neglect, the thing grew and grew and grew – and lo! Verily did it put forth seven billion bright red chilli peppers, all of which our then-18 month-old was desperate to pick and shove in his mouth. Which was fun. And after all that, the chillis ended up not even being used: I dried them and strung them up in the kitchen.

Like I said: sore point. 🙂

Also: I’m afraid the blog will most likely grow to resemble me, in the way dogs sort of look like their owners. So that means it’ll turn into something a bit messy, incredibly disorganised and utterly incapable of keeping track of its front door keys.